


Roadside Intentions

by Colorfullyminded



Series: Pinescone Month [9]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Also I initially wrote this for Pinescone Week, Also fluff, Anal Fingering, Bottom Dipper Pines, Cockblocking, Dipper Bottoms...and he fucking loves it!, Dipper Pines Bottoms...and He Fucking Loves It!, Except it's 2020, Ford is an asshole, Helping her brother get laid, Hot Tub Sex, I Had A Lot Of Fun With This, I haven't posted Smut, I haven't written smut in a hot minute, I hope you guys like this, In such a long time, Like it's just two horny young adults trying to get some alone time, M/M, Mabel is best wing woman, Maybe I should tag it still, Pinescone Week 2019, Porn With Plot, Pure Smut, Roadtrip, Shower Sex, Smut, So..., The buildup just makes the sex so much sweeter, Top Wirt, a protective asshole, and being denied almost every step of the way, and this is very very smutty, anyway, but don't worry, but never finished it, but still he need to just chill, explicit - Freeform, or at the very least, so much cockblocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27137401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorfullyminded/pseuds/Colorfullyminded
Summary: Pinescone Prompt (2020): Roadside AttractionDipper pushes him, flushed and grinning. “Shut up! You’re so dumb. I assure you, I’m well behaved. This slut has hung up his glory days.”Wirt whispers, just loud enough for the other to hear, “Well, hopefully there’s still a little left in you. Maybe just enough of a slut for me?”He had meant it as a joke, but Dipper’s cheeks go dark, and his eyes slide to half mast, something like desire buried deep within. Wirt swallows, feeling the temperature rise. He rests his hand on Dipper’s waist, mimicking the younger man’s expression.Dipper leans up onto his tippy toes, Wirt bending down--“Dipper, I need your help with the gas!”“Wirt, I saw a squirrel with spider legs!”The two pull apart, displeased at the interruption.
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)
Series: Pinescone Month [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1503392
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40
Collections: Over the Gravity Falls (After Dark), Pinescone Week 2019





	Roadside Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 9: Roadside Attractions

“Really, Grunkle Stan? Another road trip?” Dipper watches as his uncles throw their bags into the storage unit of the RV. 

“Yes kid, and no excuses. You’re all coming. This is the last summer before you and Mabel go off to college. Who knows when we’ll get to see you again.” Grunkle Stan says, picking up a duffle bag, and chucking it ungracefully into the camper.

“It’ll be nice to spend time with all of you before you go off to do your own thing. And think of the possible oddities we’ll find. We might discover some interesting creatures along the way,” Ford offers, trying to appeal to Dipper’s interest.

Mabel skips over, dumping her bag on the ground with the others, “Yeah! And you get to bring your boyfriend along, so what’s the problem Dip n Dots?”

Dipper looks at the group. Candy, Grenda, Pacifica, Mabel, Greg, Wirt, and himself. To put it simply--

“It’s going to be packed!” Dipper complains. “We’ll hardly have any room to stretch out, or be comfortable. Do we even have enough seats for everyone?”

“You can sit on my lap, Dipper, if you need to.” Grenda purrs, batting her eyelashes.

Dipper hmms uncomfortably, “Thanks Grenda, but um...I think I’m good.”

Wirt steps forward, waving his hand to draw her attention, “Um, I’m right here. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t make passes at my boyfriend, please? And thank you.”

  
  
Grenda bellows, “I know. I’m just teasing. Although, you could both sit on my lap. I wouldn’t mind that, one bit.” She wiggles her eyebrows, no shred of shame to be found.

Wirt wrings his hands together. “Much as that is an...idea, I think we’ll be okay. I’m sure there’s plenty of space, and if we must share chairs, I’d prefer Dipper sit with me--”

Ford snaps his head in Wirt’s direction, face stony.

Wirt gulps, “Or you know what, Greg can just sit with me. That’s--that’s fine.”

Ford slowly turns away, returning to his task of filling up the gas tank.

Pacifica slaps Wirt on the back, “You need to grow a spine. You should just tell him upfront that Dipper’s your man, and if you want him to sit on your lap, he should damn well be able to.” She tosses the two a saucy wink.

Dipper and Wirt turn bright red at the suggestion. Dipper shushes her, “Pacifica, this doesn’t concern you.”

Wirt joins the conversation with his own objection, “Yeah, and that’s easy for you to say when you’re in their uncle's good graces. I’m pretty sure you’ve bribed Stanley, and lord knows what you did to sway Ford, but he doesn’t consider you a threat to Mabel at all.”

“Can’t help being a rich bitch. Also, Ford knows Mabel can handle herself. She doesn’t need supervision. As if I’d ever hurt her.”

  
  
Dipper puffs out his chest, as well as his cheeks, making for an odd contrast. He looks like a kitten, trying to impersonate a large mountain lion. “And what? I can’t handle myself? I’d like to point out my biceps, and calf muscles, which have grown exponentially over the years. Mabel and I have bulked up over the summers, and I can say I have a little more muscle than her.”

“BUT I STILL HAVE THE HEIGHT~” Mabel interrupts, squashing Dipper’s earlier boast.

Wirt adds, squinting at the blonde, “And are you implying that I would ever hurt Dipper?”

Pacifica rolls her eyes. “Of course not! I know you two dorks are gaa-gaa over each other. But Dipper is Ford’s protege. He’s going to be extra protective of him. Isn’t that obvious?”

She ruffles her pixie cut, and drops her bag on the ground. No longer the prim and proper rich girl she had been as a child, now she is a lot more carefree and fun, though her sass is still ever present. She takes Mabel’s hand in hers, and says to the other girls, “Come on ladies, let’s head inside. I burn easy, so I’d like to get in the air conditioned RV if we can. Let’s leave the boys to their own devices.”

She drags a giggling Mabel away, who waves at the group, before they disappear inside the camper.

  
  
Grenda lifts her arms and whoops! “Yeah! Let’s get going! I wanna see some cute boys, and weird shit! Or both!” She tromps up the steps after the couple.

  
  
Candy sticks around, momentarily. She squints at Dipper, and then turns to Wirt, empathetically. She leans towards the poet, whispering within earshot of them both, “Be careful with that one. He’s a flirt.” 

“Candy, that was years ago. I thought we were past that!”

Candy pulls away, huffing, though she’s clearly smiling. “I’m just letting him know Dipper. The last time we were on a road trip, you were a slut.”

She leaves them with a flick of her long, black hair, and a chuckle; knowing she has caused some mischief.

Dipper blushes, “Ugh, she’s such a brat.”

  
  
Wirt is still processing her words, “What did she mean by that?” 

Dipper sighs, “When we were 12, Stan gave me some advice about confidence. I decided to flirt with some girls, thinking I wasn’t really going to see them again. Well, Candy started noticing my confidence, and ended up crushing on me, and instead of letting her down easy, I went on a date with her. I knew it wasn’t exactly right, but I was enjoying the confidence I was gaining. Long story short, I kind of hurt a bunch of girls, including Candy, and she ended up saving my butt from a giant spider queen. We’re cool now, but she’ll still tease me about the whole thing. I mean, I deserve it; I was kinda acting like a...slut.”

Wirt whistle, low and long, “Wow, so I have to keep an eye on you on this adventure? Make sure you’re not getting any numbers? This will be a tough task when you’re so irresistibly good looking.” 

Dipper pushes him, flushed and grinning. “Shut up! You’re so dumb. I assure you, I’m well behaved. This slut has hung up his glory days.”

Wirt whispers, just loud enough for the other to hear, “Well, hopefully there’s still a little left in you. Maybe just enough of a slut for me?”

He had meant it as a joke, but Dipper’s cheeks go dark, and his eyes slide to half mast, something like desire buried deep within. Wirt swallows, feeling the temperature rise. He rests his hand on Dipper’s waist, mimicking the younger man’s expression. 

Dipper leans up onto his tippy toes, Wirt bending down--

“Dipper, I need your help with the gas!”

“Wirt, I saw a squirrel with spider legs!”

The two pull apart, displeased at the interruption.

Dipper glares at his uncle, the picture of innocence.

Wirt looks at Greg...who really is innocent. 

Dipper reluctantly steps away. “We’ll have plenty of time for kissing on the trip,” he reassures.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Wirt agrees, one hand on the top of Greg’s head. He gives his brother’s hair an affectionate tussle, then inquires about Greg’s previous statement. 

Dipper takes a moment to admire the two. Seeing Wirt’s relationship with his brother is another huge reason why he loves the young man so much. Wirt is talented, sweet, adorkable, and then some. And his protective, and kind nature towards his brother only highlights those wonderful qualities.

The idea of being cramped in the RV seems a little more bearable, when he thinks about being cramped next to his boyfriend. He would enjoy having Wirt’s arms around him, his lips against his skin, saying sweet nothings into his ear--

“Dipper, I need you now!” Ford calls again, breaking his daydream.

Dipper turns, and stomps towards his uncle, muttering obscenities under his breath. “I know you did that on purpose, Great Uncle Ford!”

Ford has the audacity to look perplexed. “Whatever do you mean?”

Dipper can see Grunkle Stan hiding a smirk.

He rolls his eyes at the two of them. _Honestly, why couldn’t they act their age?_

_This was gonna be an interesting road trip. But hopefully, one with better memories._

* * *

Their first stop is the gas station, because Greg forgot to use the bathroom before they left. 

Grunkle Stan turns in his seat, and gives all the young adults a pointed look. “Anyone else who needs to go, better get the hell out right now, cause we’re not stopping for awhile!”

Everyone hops out of the RV, and sprints for the restrooms.

* * *

The next stop is 30 minutes later, when Grenda complains about being hungry, and gets everyone in the backseat to start chanting “Feed Us!” to the annoyance of Great Uncle Ford, and the amusement of Grunkle Stan.

“Stanley, would you say something to get these kids quiet?” 

Stan looks at him, silently, before he too pounds on his knees with his fists. “Feed us! Feed us!” He choruses. The group cheers, and the chanting grows louder.

Great Uncle Ford screams, and swerves into the nearest diner.

* * *

The third stop is actually on their list of sights to see.

A supposedly haunted mansion, with many stairs that lead to nowhere, doors opening to bricked off walls, doors that are too small for anyone to fit through, furniture nailed to the ceiling, windows built in the flooring, and large bedrooms that contain only a single object inside--like a lightstand, or a toy chest. 

Ford had marked it on the map as a “Must Investigate,” talking excitedly about the strange design choices of the woman who once owned and renovated the house. She had passed in the early 1880’s, but her house, and it’s legacy lived on. Ford’s certain she might even still reside somewhere within the mansion, and perhaps he can interrogate her on her odd construction decisions.

The gang gets out, and Grunkle Stan signs them up for the tour, managing to once again, haggle his way to a lower price. The tour guide leads them in, explaining the history of the house, the previous owner, and some of the local legends.

Halfway through the tour, Wirt feels a tug on his sleeve. He’s about to turn and ask Greg what’s the matter, when the hand tugs him into another room, off to the side. It’s a strong hold, and it takes a moment to figure out what’s going on, but when he feels arms wrap around his neck, and sees the dazzling smile of his boyfriend, Wirt relaxes, glad to know he isn’t about to be sacrificed to some malevolent spirit.

“Hi there,” Dipper purrs, nuzzling the boy’s nose.

“Well hello to you too. You come around here often--” He pauses, taking a look around the room. They’re in a bedroom, with a four poster bed, an oak nightstand and matching drawers, long drawn curtains, and a fireplace. Pictures of flowers and landscapes hang from the walls. For all intents and purposes, it’s one of the few normal looking rooms they’ve seen--and it’s honestly, gorgeous. “--Good to know you picked the actual bedroom, and not the room with the one rocking chair in the corner.”

“I thought this room would be a little more romantic than the rocking chair room.” Dipper explains, pressing kisses to Wirt’s neck. 

“Do weird labyrinthian mansions turn you on?” Wirt turns his head, allowing Dipper more access to his neck.

  
  
Dipper hums, pretending to give it thought. “I think it’s just being with you that does it for me. Although, labyrinths are great places to sneak off and hide away, for a little while.” He trails kisses up Wirt’s neck, slowly backing him towards the bed.

The back of Wirt’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and the two go toppling. Dipper laughs, pinning Wirt’s hands. “I just wanted that kiss I was so surely robbed of.”

“Mmmm, I agree. I think it was very unfair. You should be allotted your reward.”

Dipper leans down, their noses brushing. “And then some.”

“And then some,” Wirt repeats, voice thick.

Dipper connects their lips. It starts as a chaste kiss, simple and sweet, followed by more light, loving pecks, but soon the intensity of the kissing increases. Dipper grinds his body against Wirt’s, creating a light friction. He interlocks their fingers, squeezing gently. 

Wirt moans into Dipper’s mouth, the sensation alighting something low in his stomach. He disconnects their lips briefly, pressing nipping bites along Dipper’s jawline.

Dipper turns his head, reconnecting their lips again. This kiss is far hungrier, opening his mouth to allow Wirt’s tongue in.

_“My what spirited young men you are. Ahhh, it reminds me of my youth.”_

The two freeze. They pull away, a string of saliva still connecting their lips.

  
  
“Ummm, did you say something Dipper?” Wirt asks.

Dipper shakes his head, disconnecting the string. “No, not me. Shit, maybe Mabel came back to look for us?”

  
  
He flips around, but the door’s still closed, and there’s no sign of anybody, other than them, in the room.

“But you heard that right?” Wirt asks again. 

“ _Oh, no need to stop on my account~! Please, continue, I’ll be quiet~! Hehehe~!_ ” 

The voice is way too close to their ears. Wirt cranes his head back, as Dipper lifts his own.

There, sitting on the bed-- bathrobe hanging loosely off her wrinkled, thin frame-- is an elegant, older woman. An elegant older woman, who is also corporeal, the light from outside filtering through her figure.

Dipper and Wirt jump off the bed, backing quickly away. 

The woman titters behind her hand, her many jeweled rings glittering with her merriment. “ _It’s been so long since I’ve had such a cute couple play hanky panky in my chambers. And two men! Now that’s certainly some taboo. Back in my day, it wouldn’t be viewed very highly, but oh, don’t worry, I’m no fuddy duddy. Why, I was quite the scandalous harlot myself, so I didn’t care for all those social norms. I say love who you want, so long as they make you feel good. And you two seemed to certainly be feeling good a moment ago. Please, please, continue! Don’t let me spoil the fun. The bed is so comfy, and I’ve been in need of some entertainment. Ghosts get lonely too, you know~! I promise just to watch; you’re a little too young for me, but I’m all for looking~! Haha~_ ”

The two flee the room, her jovial laughter carrying down the hall. “ _Oh, if you wouldn’t mind bringing that handsome guardian of yours over yonder. I hear he’s interested in meeting me~! In fact, both of them would be fine! I’m not picky! I could probably handle them both~! Hahahahaah!_ ”

* * *

Everyone wonders why the first night in the RV, Dipper and Wirt sleep on opposite sides, but no one decides to question them, figuring it’ll be resolved by the morning. 

Dipper and Wirt give fleeting glances from across the room, a moment of longing to be near each other flickering between them, before the memory of earlier resurfaces. That quickly douses any longing or loneliness, replaced by mortification.

  
Great Uncle Ford is certainly not complaining about the distance.

* * *

The next destination on their map is something Stan’s marked as a “Must See.” That “must see” turns out to be a casino.

“Of course it is,” Ford grumbles, as he turns into the parking lot. 

Stan rubs his hands together, eyes greedy for the gamble. “And the best part is, it’s 18+, so everyone can come along.”

“...Except Greg,” Wirt points out.

“What?” Stan turns in his seat to look at the man.

Wirt points to his little brother, frowning, “Greg is not 18. He can’t gamble! What is he supposed to do?”

Stan tries to think of a solution. “Well, there’s plenty of things to do in the RV!”

Wirt glowers.

“I’m messing, I’m messing. You really think I wouldn’t have it all planned out?”

Wirt bites his tongue, not wanting to say what he really thinks.

Ford does it for him, “Honestly, I didn’t. So what’s the plan?”

  
  
Stan punches his brother in the arm, before addressing Wirt, “There’s an arcade, and a pool for the younger kids. And I even reserved a table for the buffet later today. So we’re all good on entertainment, and lunch, okay? Everyone happy?”

Wirt crosses his arms. “And does he have supervision? Or is he just supposed to run wild?”

“Wirt, I’m not a little kid anymore!” Greg puffs out his cheeks.

“You’re his big brother, that makes you his current guardian. Which means, if you want him to be supervised, that’s on you kid.” Stan unfastens his seatbelt, and opens the car, hopping out. That’s the last thing he has to say on the matter.

Wirt rubs his temples. “Great, just great.”

Dipper pats his knee. “Come of Wirt, did you really expect anything less from my Grunkle?”

  
  
Wirt blows out a breath, “Not really…”

  
  
“It’ll be fun, we can make do.”

  
  
“I’m not a kid anymore! You guys don’t have to babysit me!” Greg throws up his hands.

* * *

After much negotiating-- which Wirt is a little ashamed to admit that he lost to a 13 year old-- Wirt leaves his brother to his own devices.

He thinks back to when he was 15; at that time, he would have let Greg wander into traffic if it meant not having to deal with him. 

_He’s glad he’s no longer that guy._ Although, Greg would argue that he would have preferred that Wirt, instead of the overprotective brother he currently has. 

But thanks to Dipper and Mabel’s reaffirmation that Greg can handle himself, and after promising to keep him updated with texts every hour, Wirt finally concedes.

So now everyone’s split into pairs. Stan and Ford have gone straight to the poker table, Pacifica drags Mabel off to the roulette wheel, Candy and Grenda run off to flirt with one of the servers, leaving just the two men to figure out what to do.

“Slots?” Dipper suggests.

Wirt shrugs. “I guess.”

* * *

Slots seemed like a good idea, until Dipper decided to drape himself behind Wirt, and press teasing kisses to the nape of the poet’s neck.

To make it worse-- _Although, worse was very subjective, because Dipper’s mouth was…oh! Really nice--_ a crowds gathered around the two, though their eyes are focused on the screen in front of Wirt, rather than the couple themselves.

“Dipper, I can’t concentrate,” Wirt hisses under his breath, only loud enough for Dipper to hear.

Dipper chuckles, “But you’re doing so well. I’m pretty sure it’s because my kisses are good luck. We don’t want you losing your winning streak, do we?”

Wirt pouts, and presses the button. _Another bonus!_

_He hates to think that Dipper is correct. But he also really doesn’t mind the attention his neck is getting!_

The crowd around them cheers, but it all sounds like water in his ears. All he really wants to do is pin his boyfriend to the machine, and get him back for all his earlier teasing. Of course, that’s only a fantasy, one he’s too shy to ever live out. Still, at least he can have a little something.

When he hits the bonus again, he cocks his head to the side, grabbing Dipper by the collar of his shirt. He pulls Dipper close, their noses brushing. He flashes Dipper a cocky smile, watching his boyfriend’s eyes darken with that same lustful look. Wirt’s going to celebrate his winnings with a well earned smooch.

“KIDS, CHANGE OF PLANS, WE GOTTA GO!”

“DAMNIT STANLEY, EVERY GODDAMN TIME!”

Stan and Ford rush past, carrying bags of money, some of which are spilling out onto the floor. Customers drop from their chairs to swoop up the fallen bills. Right behind, jumping over the casino goers like barrels in a video game, are the girls, laughing and running like mad men. Grenda’s carrying Greg in her arms. As they pass, Greg waves, and says, “We’re being chased by security-- I broke a crane machine. See you in the RV, Love you!” 

And like that, they are swallowed up in the crowd.

Dipper and Wirt stare in stunned silence. They peek back to where the group had come from, as a group of muscled men wearing black shirts come charging through the crowd after the family of renegades.

“God Fuc---”

* * *

After an interesting car chase, the group is back on track to their next stopping point. The World’s Largest Ball of Yarn. Mabel personally requested it.

The group exits the vehicle, Mabel running towards the large wool ball with the enthusiasm of a 12 year old again. Pacifica rolls her eyes, running to catch up.

Wirt heads for the gift shop, wanting to see what kind of merchandise would be sold next to the world’s largest yarn ball. Unsurprisingly, it’s yarn; although there are many hand knit items such as scarves, mittens, hats, socks and sweaters. He views each item, trying to decide what to get Greg, as well as a gift for Sara back home.

“This is cute. He’ll like this.” Wirt turns, coming face to face with a small crochet elephant keychain. 

He takes the souvenir from Dipper’s hands, smiling. “How did you know I was getting something for Greg?”

  
  
“Because you’re amazing like that,” Dipper shrugs, like it’s common knowledge.

Wirt blushes, pressing a kiss to Dipper’s cheek. “Thanks, you know me so well. In fact, if you can find the perfect thing for Sara, I might have a special surprise for you.”

  
  
Dipper’s eyes light up, and within seconds, he’s weaving through the gift shop, trying to find the perfect gift. Wirt chuckles at his boyfriend’s optimism. He’s not sure what Dipper thinks his reward is going to be, but he’s certain it will probably pale in comparison to his boyfriend’s imagination. Now Wirt has to really think about what to do for Dipper. So while Dipper searches for a gift for Sara, Wirt runs through the store trying to find a gift for Dipper.

They return to each other at the same time.

Dipper presents the bee charm with a flourish, “Do you think she’ll like it cause it reminds her of her highschool mascot costume...or hate it, because it reminds her of her mascot costume?”

  
  
Wirt takes the charm, beaming at the cleverness of it. “She’ll love it!”

Wirt motions Dipper to the cashier, putting his purchases on the counter. The squared fabric does not go unnoticed by the adventurer. “What’s that?” 

Wirt hands over his debit card. “It’s your gift, of course!”

  
  
Dipper pouts, “Oh, I was thinking of something else. You know, I didn’t need a physical gift. I would have preferred _your company_.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Wirt shakes his head. “I know, but I saw this and thought of you.”

  
  
Dipper looks at the material once more. It’s a hand knit throw blanket, with the constellations sewn into it. It’s quite fancy--soft too-- but when Dipper spots the price tag, he almost screams highway robbery. “Babe-- that’s--”

  
  
Wirt places his hand on Dipper’s cheek, gently pulling the boy closer. He kisses Dipper’s temple, muttering into his hair, “Kitten...when couples share a blanket, what often happens?”

  
  
Dipper turns bright red, that shining look in his eyes, now tenfold.

The cashier coughs, drawing their attention away, “Sirs, you are dripping sexual tension all over my counter, and as a single gay man, I’m going to have to ask you two to stop before I deck you both across the face.”

* * *

After an hour of sightseeing, a thousand pictures, and another hour in the gift shop-- _this time because Mabel wanted to look around--_ the group’s boarding the RV. Dipper takes a step onto the first landing, and is stopped by Grunkle Stan.

“Bag check!” Stan says, snatching the gift bag out of Dipper’s hands.

“Hey! Grunkle Stan that’s mine! What are you doing?”

  
  
“Looking for Contraband,” is Stan’s answer, as he pulls the blanket out of the bag. “Like this; this is confiscated until the end of the road trip.”

“What? Why? It’s a blanket, for sleeping.”

  
  
Stan rolls his eyes. “Un-huh, sure kid. Heard some cashier bitterly mumbling to himself about two “cute,” thirsty assholes having no self restraint, shamelessly flirting in front of him. Talking about how he needed to get laid...you two wouldn’t happen to know what he was talking about, would you?”

Dipper and Wirt both refuse to meet Stan’s eyes.

“We were just gonna cuddle,” Dipper mumbles under the collar of his shirt.

Ford lets out a sharp “Hah” from the front seat. 

Dipper shoots a glare to the driver’s side.

Stan throws the blanket over his shoulder, “Thanks kid, this will keep us old folks warm for the long drive ahead. Anyway, you may proceed.” He hands the now nearly empty bag back to Dipper, and slides into the passenger seat, throwing the blanket over his lap.

Dipper looks like he’s contemplating murder-- _Like with plans of where he’d bury the bodies, and how’d he erase the evidence, and convincing his sister to lie on the witness stand for him, and--._

Wirt, trying to stay positive, puts his hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s better not to have any temptation. We should try to behave more-- it will be less awkward for everyone.”

“I agree!” Ford yells.

Wirt has to physically push Dipper to the back of the RV. 

“You both are the absolute worst!” Dipper shouts back. The girls look on in amused sympathy. Greg gives his brother a pat on the shoulder as he passes. 

“I almost feel a little bad for them,” Pacifica admits.

Mabel replies, her concentration still on the sweater she’s knitting, with the yarn she’d bought, “Yeah, but if they weren’t harping on those two, they’d be on our case. Do we really want that?”

Pacifica considers it, “Okay, not that bad.”

  
  
All the girls, and Greg, laugh. Though Greg isn’t quite sure what the joke had been.

* * *

“You think we’re being too hard on the boys?” Stan asks, now in the driver’s seat. 

Ford looks up from his notes, the blanket they had stolen comfortably draped over his shoulders. He glances at the now quiet passengers asleep in the back. His eyes zero in on Wirt, who has a hand comfortably-- _too comfortably_ \--draped low on Dipper’s hips. Dipper snuggles his face into Wirt’s cashmere sweater, a content smile on his face.

Ford turns back around. “Perhaps…” he murmurs, a bit begrudgingly.

Stan rolls his eyes. “You’re so protective of him.”

  
  
“Well he is my protégé, I gotta make sure he’s following the right path. Plus, he reminds me a lot of me. It’s hard not to worry.”

“Just you, huh?” Stan questions.

Ford smiles slightly, “Well, maybe he also reminds me of a little brat of a brother, with a heart of gold. And that, well maybe there’s a need to protect that too.”

Stan punches his brother’s arm. “Yeah, well, just like that brat of a kid, Dipper can take care of himself. If I’m speaking honestly, I don’t really have any issues with Wirt. He’s a good guy--a little scrawny, and a total pushover--but he makes Dipper less reckless; keeps him calm... he’s good company.”

Ford sighs, closing his book. “I hate to admit it...but you might be correct, for once. He’s not bad for Dipper. Maybe too soft, but that just might be what Dipper needs to balance him out. ...I think he’s not so bad company, either.”

The two drive in silence for a mile, enjoying the starry night sky, and the soft ambience inside the RV.

“But we're not going to stop messing with them, are we?” 

“Oh hell no! I want to make that kid squirm. He’s dating my great nephew, and I want to make sure he never forgets who has a molecule splicer ready the moment he fucks up,” Ford says, his smile a little eerie.

Stan guffaws, slapping his hand against the steering wheel. “We really are cut from the same cloth! You make the beanpole squirm, and I’ll handle the kid!”

* * *

Greg points out a billboard, advertising one of Oregon’s best mini golf courts, 5 miles away.

Mabel and Pacifica’s eyes are glittering.

“Aw shit!” Grunkle Stan sighs.

The two girls run to the front of the RV, demanding that they stop.

* * *

As soon as the group has bought their admission ticket, and set up, all affection between Mabel and Pacifica is put on the backburner, replaced by their overly competitive nature.

They go from court to court, trying to outdo each other, throwing shade with each putt. But you know...in an affectionate way.

Candy and Grenda try to participate, but are quickly falling behind, and eventually give up altogether when a cute guy passes by them, redirecting their interest.

Stan and Ford have started a betting pool over which girl will win, and are standing on the sidelines, cheering their contender on. 

Wirt, deciding it best to stay out of it from the beginning, not wanting to be subjected to the girl’s scathing wit, or side eyes, chooses to help Greg instead. His little brother is whacking balls with little direction, hardly checking to see if he’s aiming for the goal. This will, eventually, lead to injury, and property damage, if Wirt doesn’t step in to quickly correct it. He wouldn’t call himself an amazing player, or even a great one, but he’s decent enough to know how to aim and shoot, at the very least. He’s good enough to teach his brother the proper way to play, and how not to poke somebody’s eye out.

Dipper, knowing not to touch his sister’s competitive battles with a 10 foot pole, tries to get through each hole without making it clear that, even years later, he’s still terrible at the game. He’s clearly lagging behind everyone else--well, everyone who’s still playing.

Although, this certainly gives him a...rather cunning idea.

“Wow, is the great Dipper Pines falling behind?” Wirt looks back, seeing that his boyfriend is still struggling on the previous hole. He leaves Greg momentarily, figuring the young teen can manage himself now, to approach and playfully banter at his lover.

“Shut it you! Shouldn’t you be helping Greg with his swing?” Dipper pouts, as he lines up his shot.

“I was, but I think Greg’s got a handle on it. Besides, Dipper Pines, not good at something? Now that’s something I can’t miss!”

“I’m not good at everything. There’s a lot of things I’m bad at,” Dipper argues, eyes of the whale, counting how many seconds it opens its mouth, and how many seconds it keeps it closed.

“I guess, but you’re good at so many things, it’s nice to see something you’re struggling with, even something as simple as minigolf. It’s rather adorable,” Wirt says. Even teasing the boy, he can’t stop himself from dishing out compliments.

Dipper swings. The ball arches over the whale’s mouth, and hits the tail, bouncing into the tiny moat surrounding the animatronic. “Damn!”

Wirt whistles, “Oh you really are bad. This is amazing!” 

Dipper glares at his boyfriend--though, internally, he’s putting his plan into action. _This is his chance!_ “Oh shut up! Well, since you’re such a wise teacher of mini golf, why don’t you come over here and show me what I’m doing wrong?” He holds out his golf club.

Wirt steps forward, curling his hand over Dipper’s. _Perfect!_

“I’d be happy to help. Looks like you could use a little guidance. Honestly, you’re as bad as Greg.” Wirt steps behind Dipper, repositioning him. 

“Put your hands a little lower--you don’t want to lose your grip on the club. That’d be a disaster. Now, lean forward, just a tad, so you can take note of the ball and the goal. That’ll help you to aim better,” Wirt instructs, his hand on Dipper’s back.

Dipper smirks, and leans forward, slotting the back of his jeans to the front of Wirt’s.

Wirt jumps. “D-Dipper!” He hisses, heat rising to his cheeks.

“What? I’m doing like you asked?” Dipper innocently replies. He glances back, batting his eyelashes, the way Mabel does when she’s trying to get Pacifica to do what she wants. Sometimes, it’s scary to think how similar he is to his twin sister.

_Right down to their unquenchable thirst._

“You know exactly what you’re doing!” Wirt scolds, trying to lean away, only for Dipper to follow, making it more obvious what’s happening. “You’re going to get me killed! Your uncle’s take one look over and I’m dead--”

  
  
“Oh hush, you’re fine. Look, they’re totally focused on their bet, and paying us no mind. Everyone’s busy with their own things, and if you’d stop squirming, drawing attention to yourself, then no one will bother us. Just think, You’re my boyfriend, helping me with my swing.”

“I am your boyfriend, helping you with your swing,” Wirt grumbles.

“Exactly,” Dipper agrees, turning to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

Wirt sighs; there’s no use in arguing with the man. Best to just accept it and play along. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t feeling a little excited about the closeness, finally having a chance to be together, with little distraction or obstacle to get in their way. And Dipper feels really good sidled up to him. He comes up under Wirt’s chin, their bodies fitting comfortably together-- like a puzzle piece when they hold each other close. Cheesy as it is; he feels the two are perfectly made for each other. 

Although, that doesn’t mean he can’t get his revenge, what with all of Dipper’s not so subtle attempts.

“Are you keeping your eyes on the ball?”

“Oh I think I’m keeping very close to them,” Dipper snickers, wiggling his hips.

Wirt grabs his head, and forces him to look back at the game, “I’m talking about the golf ball, you little shit!”

Dipper laughs, taking pleasure in the curse that slips from his boyfriend’s mouth. It isn’t often Wirt will resort to filthy language. But when he does... _well, Dipper certainly likes getting those words to come out_. 

He finally turns his attention back to the game, to keep up the appearance that they are actually playing, and not just messing around.

Wirt watches him intently, watches as his tongue pokes out in concentration; a signature Dipper Pines’s move. As Dipper winds back to swing, he shoves both hands in the back of Dipper’s pockets, and squeezes, hard.

Dipper nearly chucks his club.

  
  
“Wirt!” Dipper yawps, looking back with flushed cheeks. He can’t believe that Wirt-- _his boyfriend_ \--proper, mature, worrywart Wirt, is playing dirty!

Wirt, hands still in the back of Dipper’s pockets, shrugs. “My my, what a lousy shot Mr. Pines. Didn’t even hit the ball. I think someone still needs lessons. You’re clearly not taking this seriously.”

Wirt wiggles his eyebrows, giving Dipper’s bum another firm squeeze.

“Now who’s the one misbehaving?!” Dipper laughs, but has to smother his moan when Wirt rocks into him from behind. _Oh he is playing downright filthy!_

“...you started it…” Wirt whispers, voice husky.

  
  
“Mmmm, I might want to be the one to finish it too. You’re going to have to help me get a firm grip on my club, Mr. Minigolf Master, so I don’t keep a-swinging and a-missin’.”

“Mmmm, I think maybe we need to switch you to another club. Something for you to practice on. Something that you can really wrap your hands around, and feel out the weight of.”

“Oh?” Dipper asks, grinding back into Wirt’s hips.

Wirt bites his bottom lip, swallowing back a moan of his own. He presses forward, his lips hovering at the back of Dipper’s neck. Pressing searing kisses to Dipper’s skin-- trailing up the back of his neck to his earlobe, he bites softly and says, “I think the problem you’re facing is that you’re too distracted by the crowd. I know you’d do so much better if you had someone to give you private lessons. Somewhere where you can focus on the task at hand, somewhere you can just let loose. Just me and you, and your hands, working, gripping, squeezing. _Just you and me, and nobody else. Just the two of us._ Would you like that _, Mason?_ ” He slips one hand out of Dipper’s pocket, sliding it up Dipper’s hip, riding up his shirt. He hooks his thumb in Dipper’s pant loops, and gives a needy tug. 

Dipper whimpers, body pliant as his real name falls from his boyfriend’s lips. _That’s the last straw._ “Wirt, _ahh_ , I--! Yes! I can’t think anymore. _Please, I want that more than anything. I want you. Just you. J-just u-us--_ I--i--! ...Think we can sneak back to the RV? Or shit! Shit I don’t care anymore! You can take me against the bathroom wall for all I care. I just need you to take me.”

_The thought is so tempting. But Wirt is not that kind of tarty whore._

_If they’re going to misbehave, he wants it to be romantic._

“Hmmm, Dipper, I think we should go back to the RV. There’s a lovely fold out bed there. I want to be able to _ravish you proper_ \--” 

**!!!!WHACK!!!!**

Dipper feels the sudden loss of a body pressing hard against him. 

Wirt’s no longer behind him. He’s laid out on the floor, in a fetal position, holding his face; _screaming_.

“Wirt?” Dipper turns. “Wirt!” He crouches down, hands on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Wirt?! Are you okay? What happened?”

“MY NOSE!” Wirt sobs, feeling sticky, warm liquid dripping through the cracks of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s so much blood!” Dipper cries, flailing his arms in panic.

* * *

Ford lowers his club, staring off in the distance of his swing. _Target: Hit._

“Are you trying to kill the kid, sixer?” Stan guffaws, looking over at the crouching couple. He wants to say he feels bad for the two; he knows Ford is being a little extreme. They’re just acting like young lovers do, wanting some alone time together. He remembers being young once. 

_But also, like, they’re asking for it at this point. They were shamelessly being gross, so they should expect some not so happy responses to their PDA._

Ford doesn’t answer. He continues staring at the young men, 7 courses down.

“You aren’t really trying to murder him...right?” Stan asks. Sometimes it’s hard to tell how serious his brother is, when it comes to his family.

Ford turns slowly. “Murder? No, never. This was just an unhappy golfing accident that sadly, might have ended fatally. Dipper will be distraught for a while, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. Trauma builds character, as they say.”

Stan whistles low, “Damn, Sixer.”

  
  
Ford looks back, tsking, “Damn, he’s getting up…” 

Dipper helps Wirt into a sitting position. Wirt is holding his nose, his blue button up stained with dark red droplets. Blood oozes from his fingers, and splatters on the fake grass below.

Stan rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the girls. “What was the score again?” Seeing that the two are okay, and that Wirt is thankfully, not dead, he has more important things to be concerned with. Like their bet.

Ford turns back, staring at the score sheet he had been keeping track of. Acting like nothing’s happened. “Mabel’s ahead by 2 points, but Pacifica is taking the lead this round. The game isn’t over yet! I can still win.”

“You wish Sixer! Atta girl Mabel! DESTROY HER! BREAK HER SOUL AND SPIRIT! WIN YOUR FAVORITE UNCLE THAT 50 BUCKS!”

“Stan, that’s your niece’s girlfriend…Be a little more respectful,” Ford admonishes.

Stan looks back. _Ford really isn’t one to talk._

* * *

“This is such bullshit! Mabel, my dear. You let me down! You break your poor Grunkle’s heart!”

Ford counts his earnings. “Don’t be such a sore loser, Stanley. Pacifica, good job on that last course. You made me one richer man.”

Pacifica shrugs. “I really don’t care. I still can’t believe you were betting on us.” Now that the game is over, her and Mabel are back to their normal, loving selves. She adds a fresh coat of pink polish to Mabel’s fingernails.

“Did you really expect anything different?” Mabel asks, as she stares at Pacifica’s steady hand, painting her nails for her.

“Not really…” Pacifica replies, blowing on Mabel’s nails.

“So um...are we all just going to pretend that Wirt’s not bleeding in the kitchen?” Grenda comments, voicing the elephant in the room.

Wirt’s is leaning back against the kitchen sink, knees bent to allow Dipper to press the frozen peas to his bruised nose. His fingers, his shirt, his jeans, as well as the bag, are covered in dried blood. 

Candy stares at her friend, before turning to Mabel and Pacifica. “Can you do my nails next?”

“Sure, what color?” Pacifica asks.

“Do you have seafoam green?”

Grenda continues talking to occupants of the RV, “Yeah...so we’re just not going to address that Wirt’s nose is bleeding…”

“Oh yeah! It is.” Greg says, looking up from his phone, realizing for the first time that his brother is injured. “What happened, ol brother of mine? Did you get in a kerfuffle?”

Dipper glares at the front of the bus. “He got hit with a golf ball. Nearly broke his nose! ...I wonder how that happened?”

Ford peers at his nephew from the rearview mirror of the RV. “Why do you assume I had anything to do with it? Me and Stan were busy betting on your sister’s game. I hardly had time to focus on what you two were getting up to--though, with how things have been, maybe I should have kept a closer watch. I’m sure you two were up to no good. I bet, whether accidental, _or intentional_ , your boyfriend was well deserving of that slap back to reality--or, in this instance...a golf ball to the face.”

…

….

……

“Yeah, it was totally him.”

“I KNEW IT! GREAT UNCLE FORD!”

“Stanley, You are such a sore loser!”

* * *

Two days have passed, and no more attempts at flirting have been made. But Dipper is getting antsy. He keeps squirming in his seat, unable to find a comfortable position. He just wants to go home. He wants to be with his boyfriend.

_...He wants his boyfriend to fuck him._

Wirt, in the meantime, is also feeling stir crazy-- but the threat of Ford is stronger than his own desires, leaving him too tired to try anything anymore. The golf ball to the face was incentive enough to keep his hands to himself. That doesn’t make the trip any less unbearable, though. His knee bounces up and down in rapid succession, unable to keep still.

The tension is radiating in the RV, has been simmering since the start, and is now bubbling over-- making it downright uninhabitable. All the girls can sense the clear tension, and desire. Even Greg, who doesn’t know the exact situation, can sense that his brother is miserable. He keeps a considerable distance from Wirt, who seems to be perspiring more than normal.

Mabel’s had enough. The two aren't going to last another day, and neither is anyone else if those two don’t get some time to themselves.

She points out a billboard; a casino a few miles away. Promising a large jackpot for the month, including a new fishing boat.

Stan, who has current control of the wheel, eyes light up upon notice, and ignoring Ford’s protests, steers the RV towards the Casino.

Within minutes, they’re parked.

“Stanley, this is for 21 year olds and up! Everyone else is between 18 and 20.”

“And 13,” Greg points out.

“And 13,” Ford rephrases.

“Come on sixer, the kid’s can find something to do. We’ve been doing everything for them the last couple of days, we deserve to have a break. Besides, our boat’s gotten pretty dinged up from the last couple of trips--what with all the lake monsters and siren attacks. Imagine a new, sparkling Stan o War.”

Ford doesn’t seem nearly as invested.

That’s where Mabel comes to the rescue. “Great Uncle Ford, did you know that there’s been rumors that this casino lies atop a Native American burial site?” She sticks out her phone for her uncle to see. “Apparently, you can see ghosts all throughout the casino, and lots of people claim that the machines get rigged, right as they’re going to win-- as if some entity is stopping them from nailing the jackpot .Some people even swear that the statues of the totem animals will move from place to place, watching the crowd, never in the same place as before. It’s really quite...mysterious~”

Ford’s eyes light up. “Hot dang! Well...maybe we’ll just stop in for an hour or so...just to check up on this myth, and see if it’s real or not.” He opens the glove compartment, and pulls out a little sonar scanner; the size of a hand mirror. “I can use my thermal detection to trace changes in temperature through the building. This will prove useful, if there’s really any ghost walking about. Well come on Stanley, what are we waiting for?” He unbuckles his seatbelt, and jumps out of the RV.

Stan turns his seat back, smiling and winking at Mabel, “Thanks Kid. That makes convincing him much easier. You guys will be alright by yourselves?”

  
  
Mabel nods, “There’s a diner, and an outdoor shopping center just a ways down. We’ll probably head there and look around. We’ll be aces!”

Stan nods, unbuckling his own seatbelt. “Also, just so you know. I know what you’re planning. This is to help your brother and his boyfriend. Listen I get it, it reeks of desperation in here. I almost want to stick them in the baggage compartment, so we don’t have to suffer! I just don’t think it will work quite as well as you hope; knowing Ford, once he senses something’s up, he’ll probably race back to finish Wirt off. And I don’t know if I can keep him occupied...or if I really have incentive to.”

“...Paz…”

Pacifica, without being told the specifics, reaches into her wallet, and pulls out two, crisp, 500 dollar bills, handing them to the greedy uncle. “I don’t know why she wants me to do this, but here’s 1,000. Go nuts.”

Stan swipes the money out of her hands, beaming. He looks back at Mabel. “They get 4 hours. That’s it. That’s plenty of time. If they don’t do anything by then, well that’s their fault!” Pocketing the cash, he pats his great niece’s head, and also Pacifica’s, much to her chagrin, before exiting the vehicle himself.

Plan in motion, Mabel turns to her posse and claps her hands. “Alright everyone, let’s get dinner!”

Greg jumps out of his seat. “Yes! I’m starving!”

“Oh, I hope they have pizza,” Candy muses, getting down from her chair.

“Food!” Grenda screams, stomping out of the RV.

“Come on Wirt, let’s go eat,” Greg walks towards his brother-- whose upper half is splayed out over the table-- tugging on his sleeve.

Mabel interrupts, “Actually Greg, Wirt’s feeling a little sick, so he’s going to stay here.”

Wirt lifts his head, “Wha? I’m not--”

Dipper kicks him from the other end of the table.

“Oh! Oh yes! I think I feel a migraine coming on, so I’m going to rest for a little, Gregory.”

“Oh dear, do you want me to stay?” Greg asks.

Dipper shakes his head, answering for Wirt, “Nah it’s alright Greg, I’ll stay. My stomach’s hurting, so it’s better that the sick people hang back.”

Greg nods. “Golly gee, that’s a smart idea. Thank you Dipper. Make sure Wirt drinks plenty of water, and rests. Wirt, feel better soon. I’ll bring you back something to eat.” He gives his brother a tender pat on the arm, before leaving the vehicle.

The last person out is Pacifica, arms crossed. “So why are we going to let them stink up the RV with their hormones?”

Mabel sighs, linking her arm with her girlfriend’s. “Remember last week? When all the animals in your parent’s private zoo got released? And they had to leave to go recapture them all? Leaving the mansion empty for us for like 7 hours while they ran around Gravity Falls?” 

Pacifica’s eyes widen. She looks at Dipper in stunned awe, “Shit! That was you! ...Damn, that was actually really cool of you.” Realizing her admittance, she groans at her ultimate defeat, “Awww, man, now I owe you a favor! I don’t want to owe you a favor!”

Dipper smugly replies back, “But I did, and you do. And I almost got caught, so you’re welcome!”

“Fffffine, you win this round. Consider it payment for letting me and your sister get it on last week--”

“Ew! I like to pretend that you and Mabel spent those 7 hours braiding hair, and playing board games,” Dipper shudders.

Paz, feeling wicked because she knows exactly what these idiots are going to do once they’re alone, says with a wiggle of her brows, “Yeah, I was playing twister with your sister!”

“Ew, Paz! Shut the fuck up!” Dipper punches her in the arm. Pacifica punches him right back. They laugh.

Pacifica changes gears after their playful, mocking banter. “Well, thanks. I mean it. You guys deserve a little time together, and honestly I couldn’t stand being in the RV while you two were seething from sexual frustration. It was really awkward, and Grenda’s not so innocent comments about the two of you were really gross--.”

“--Really gross,” Mabel agrees. “I really need to talk to her about her shameless flirting. I think she’s going through a rebound after her breakup with Marius.”

Pacifica continues, “So, I bought you two extra hours. That’s 4 hours of...well-- Use them wisely...oh, and clean up when you’re done. I don’t want it smelling like _desperation_ when we get back. Oh, and if you get anything of mine dirty...I don’t care that your Mabel’s flesh and blood, or my best friend, I’ll tie you to the back of the RV, and have your uncle’s drive you home like that!”

With those final parting words, and a winking ‘you’re welcome’ from his sister, the girls leave the RV.

And the two men are finally, for once, alone. _Alone._

“So um…” Wirt starts, shuffling nervously in his seat. Even being alone, there is still some awkwardness to traverse. Namely, what to do with all this free time? Should they get straight to it? Ease into it? Or err on the side of caution, and abandon hope altogether? Wirt wishes he had more time to prepare and plan his next move. Even being alone, he doesn’t feel safe, or certain that the night will end as happily as planned. He waits for the next thing to go wrong. A change in schedule, some new intrusion. Another smack to the face. 

He unconsciously touches the side of his nose.

“You brought your swimming trunks right?” Dipper askes, standing.

His boyfriend’s voice pulls him from his silent contemplation. “Huh? Um...yes?”

“Good. Put them on, and meet me in the Hottub,” Dipper winks as he passes. He grabs the fold out ladder, and pulls it down. He climbs the ladder, opening the top hatch that leads out to the roof of the trailer.

Just like that he’s gone, leaving Wirt all alone inside.

“Wait...what? Why? ...Dipper!”

* * *

The hot tub’s nice. The warm, bubbling jets ease the tension from both men’s bodies.

“I needed this,” Dipper moans, head tossed back and eyes shut as the bubbling water soothes his muscles.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Wirt sighs, sinking lower into the pool.

The two are five feet apart, only allowing their legs to brush. 

“So, this roadtrip has kind of sucked,” Dipper finally confesses. He cranes his head, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry about that.”

  
  
“I mean, it hasn’t been the best,” Wirt agrees, rubbing his purpling dorsum, “but not the worst. Definitely not the worst.”

  
  
Dipper raises a brow, skeptical. “Really? My uncle smashing a golf ball into your face isn’t the absolute worst?”

Wirt shifts closer, the water sloshing dangerously. “I mean...you’re here. There’s no way this can be the worst if you’re here.”

Dipper’s eyes widen. Heat rushes to his cheeks, and he knows it isn’t the hot tub warming his skin. 

Wirt shifts closer. “Despite all the traumatizing, uncomfortable, embarrassing, and physically painful moments, at least I got to spend it by your side. When we were together, I guess all those little hiccups just felt more... bearable. Maybe more than bearable. It’s hard to not be close to you, and think that the moon and stars rise with you.”

Dipper turns his head, trying to hide how hot his face feels--how red it’s turning. “Aw, come on man. How can you be so cheesy, after everything that’s happened? Like I expect you to be a little pissed at my family. At me, for dragging you into this. Putting you in all those bad predicaments, cause I could barely keep it in my pants. You can’t just--you can’t just be all mushy. You have to hate me, just a little?”

“Sorry, I guess maybe that golf ball knocked a few brain cells loose,” Wirt smirks, drawing ever closer. Dipper presses back into the hot tub as much as he can allow, but there’s nowhere to run. _Not that he’s looking to run_ . Wirt is on top of him in an instant. “But I could never hate you, or your family. They’re important to you-- and they’re important to me. They drive me crazy, they make me laugh, they tease the hell out of me, they welcome me in, we argue, we fight, we grow closer-- I feel like I have something to prove to your uncle, and yet like I don’t have to prove myself to anyone--it’s familiar. _It’s family_. I feel like I’m part of the family, and I wouldn’t wish to change that. I’m happy to be here. With them. With you. _You’re important to me._ Sorry to tell you, I’m pretty hopelessly devoted to you.”

Wirt curls his fingers under Dipper’s chin, lifting the man’s head to connect their lips.

When they part, Dipper’s eyes are sparkling; stars reflecting in his eyes. “You…I--”

“It’s okay, take your time,” Wirt laughs.

Dipper puffs out his cheeks, and splashes his laughing boyfriend.

“Sorry, sorry. Should I hold my tongue? I’ll try to refrain from now on.” He lays his arm over Dipper’s shoulder, and sits, their thighs pressing together. 

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to fall apart,” Dipper grumbles. He grips his knees, thankful the water’s reflection hides his trembling.

“Sorry,” Wirt whispers, brushing back a stray curl on Dipper’s temple. He leans forward, pressing a kiss right where the hair had been. “I just didn’t want you guilt tripping yourself over the past few days. Despite what you think, I’ve had fun. Could be better--but no, it’ll never be the worst, _so long as you’re here_.”

Wirt is way too considerate--it’s a wonder how someone like him, ended up with someone like Wirt. Dipper isn’t complaining, nor is he wanting it to change. He can’t stand the thought of Wirt wanting anyone else. Not when he’s so far gone himself. Tears pool in his eyes, and he quickly wipes them with the back of his hand. “T-thank you. You’re sweet.”

  
  
Wirt pulls his arm back to tenderly massage the back of Dipper’s neck with the pad of his thumb. “Sorry, I’ll be good from now on.”

Dipper eyes him wantonly, “I don’t want you to be _good_. I want you to be _bad._ ”

  
  
Wirt chuckles nervously. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I know your sister bought us all that time, but I can’t help feeling a little superstitious. Like maybe now’s just not the right time.”

  
  
Dipper’s expression falls. “...I know.”

  
  
He sees Dipper’s falling expression and tries to spin his words into something more encouraging, “Just being close to you like this, I think this is good enough. I think I’m just happy to have you to myself for a couple hours.”

  
  
Dipper lifts his eyes, lips curling into a shy, heartened, smile. “...Yeah...that does sound pretty nice.”

Wirt nods. _Deep down, he can understand Dipper’s frustration. This is finally their chance. And he wants this. He wants Dipper. He knows Dipper wants him too. His body aches to turn their desperate musings into realized fancies. Wirt berates himself for being a coward. But--_ Wirt unconsciously rubs his healing nose again. 

Dipper winces. _Dammit Ford._ “It must still hurt. I’m sorry,” He cranes his head, and presses his lips to the swollen area with feather light care.

Wirt hisses. Even the lightest of touches sting. But there is something nice about the attention. Something _alleviating_ about it. He’s ashamed to admit he craves more of Dipper’s affection. 

Dipper begins to pull away, “Ah, sorry! I’ll stop!”

  
  
“N-no. It’s...I don’t mind. It’s sore...but...I..I don’t want you to stop. Will you--will you kiss it again?”

  
  
Dipper grins, “Need some TLC?”

Wirt closes his eyes and nods.

Dipper rests his hand on Wirt’s cheek, pulling the boy’s face closer to his own. His breath rolls hot over Wirt’s skin, and despite the heat of the water, Wirt can’t stop the involuntary shudder. 

Dipper’s lips find his skin again. Soft brushing of lips, a dull throbbing of pain, but a more pressing need to be cared over. Wirt sighs wistfully as Dipper’s mouth soothes the bruises along his nose. 

Wirt’s other hand moves to cup Dipper’s hip. Dipper pauses his treatment, humming his confusion. Wirt releases a shaky breath, refusing to open his eyes. “I just… I wanna hold you.”

Dipper nods, though he knows Wirt can’t see. So he whispers, breath low and strained, “...Okay.” 

He starts kissing him again.

  
  
Wirt’s lip twitches, his breathing slowing, then quickening as Dipper’s mouth roams across his face, as Dipper’s kisses spread further out-- along his cheek bones, between his brow, against the indent of his upper lip--kissing the outer edges, where the swelling starts to end.

Wirt whines, deep in the back of his throat, his lips parting slightly. Dipper takes a bit of delight in Wirt’s unconscious noises--certain that the poet isn’t truly aware of them himself.

He pulls away, a moment to admire his lover’s face; his reddened cheeks, his fluttering lashes, his quivering bottom lip. Dipper licks his lip, but quickly dissuades himself from doing more. _It’s not the right time. Just take it slow. Just enjoy the moment for what it is. Don’t be greedy._

It’s the least he can do to repay Wirt for being---wonderful. Simply wonderful. There was nothing more that Dipper wanted than to thank Wirt for being so patient, so loving, so perfectly sexy and adorable and nerdy and kind and just... _wonderful._

He starts leaning in again, ready to give Wirt’s bruises another round of gentle ministrations. 

Wirt cranes his head and presses his mouth hungrily to Dipper’s.

  
  
Dipper’s eyes widened in wonder. The grip on his hip tightens, and suddenly he’s being pulled _closer_. _Impossibly closer._

Wirt pushes his tongue in Dipper’s yielding mouth, licking desperately at the roof of his mouth, along his teeth and gums, searching eagerly for his tongue. 

Warm desire oozes through Wirt’s blood, and he keeps pulling. _Closer. Closer. Need you closer._

_“Want you...closer...”_ He moans into Dipper’s mouth.

Body trembling, Dipper reluctantly pulls away, trying to ask, “B-but I thought you said…”

  
  
But when Wirt pulls him by the scruff of his neck, and sucks Dipper’s tongue into his mouth, and keeps _sucking_ \-- _like his tongue is a cherry red popsicle on a hot summer day_ \-- Dipper feels his already half-hearted protest waning.

He angles his head to allow Wirt more of his mouth, while making sure he doesn’t accidentally hit Wirt’s nose in the heat of their frenching. His arms come up to wrap around Wirt’s neck, fingers tangling in Wirt’s soft, sienna hair. 

Wirt takes his hand off Dipper’s neck to disappear beneath the water and grip his thigh instead.

  
  
Dipper squirms. Wirt’s thumb is resting against his inner thigh, so close to his crotch. _He wants more._ It’s hard to ask when Wirt is still sucking on his tongue-- _Jesus, was he weird for liking this? They didn’t--Wirt didn’t usually treat his tongue with this much attention. Though the wet, lewd noises that are escaping from their mouths is certainly twisting his insides in a way he doesn’t hate._

“Aahh--H--hhe--Ghhhu--irt--iir--haa!anhh~ _” Fuck he can’t speak._

He doesn’t have to though, because, as if reading his thoughts, Wirt tugs, pulling Dipper between his legs, their chests flush. Half in his lap, Dipper can feel Wirt’s knee taut against his board shorts, adding a delicious pressure to Dipper’s already growing hard on. 

Finally Wirt lets his tongue go. He pulls away, gasping. Drool dribbles down his chin, dripping into the water below. “Wirt--Holy--- _Fuck_. _W-What did you do?_ ”

Wirt’s eyes glaze over, his breathing labored as sweat rolls off his temple. The heat is getting to him. _Everything feels 100 degrees hotter_. “D-don’t know. Just want to touch you. Just want you close. Want you. Just-- _want you._ ” He whines.

  
  
Dipper shudders, not used to such a needy response. Wirt isn’t one to shy away from his intentions or his desire, but he’s usually a lot more articulate--his words more poetically woven together. “Y-you have me. You don’t have to r-rush. I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

Wirt grinds his knee against Dipper’s crotch, and Dipper stifles his moan. “Want...Touch. So warm. You’re so incredibly hot Dipper. I just want to--I need to--”

  
  
“Wirt, _Wirt_. B-breathe. Easy baby, just--just take a breath. Tell me what you want. I’m right here,” Dipper pushes back Wirt’s sweat soaked bangs, caressing his burning cheek.

Wirt swallows, gathering his thoughts. He releases any lingering nerves on his exhale, his hand reaching to turn the jets to max. _The bubbles in the water make it hard for anyone to overhear them_. Thankful for the sound barrier, he leans closer, and whispers in Dipper’s ear. “I didn’t realize how badly I wanted you. I thought I--I could stave off my desire, thought I could wait til we were home. But you’re so soft, so adorable--I know you don’t like that word--B-but it’s true--you’re so adorable, and when you started kissing me, my head started filling up with all this yearning. I was itching for you. I was itching for your touch. And I was itching to touch you. I thought I could handle a couple more days--but I don’t want to wait. I...Dipper... _Mason…_ ”

Dipper shudders as Wirt bites his earlobe. “Ahh! W-wirt.”

“I don’t want to be good either. I want to be _bad._ ”

His point is emphasized when his fingers yank the drawstrings of Dipper’s swimming trunks loose. And then that hand is pushing the fabric lower, releasing Dipper’s cock from its bathing confinements.

Dipper’s panting, very aware of what's about to happen. He wants it so bad, seconds away from outright pleading. He licks his chapped lips, bites them, but it doesn’t stop the building anticipation. _It’s just getting worse. If Wirt doesn’t touch him, he’s going to--_

Wirt wraps his fingers around Dipper’s cock, and curves his wrist, pressing down, as his knee grinds up. 

“ _I want to be so bad,"_ Wirt growls against Dipper’s ear.

Dipper tosses back his head, crying out, “Ahh! F-Fuck! Wirt! You--ahHnn!”

Wirt purrs, his strokes languid as he works a tempo, “So good, you’re so good. That’s a good boy.”

Dipper twitches against Wirt’s body as he’s touched. Wirt’s voice in his ear is gentle, but so intoxicating. _He’s not saying anything dirty, but Dipper feels filthy._

Wirt slides his thumb roughly over Dipper’s slit, “Tell me what you want. Tell me what I can do for you. I want to...to please you. Want to make you feel good.”

Dipper shakes, skin prickling at Wirt’s words. “Y-you. I want you. M-more. I want you to touch me more. I want you to touch me h-har-Aahn!--harder.”

  
  
“Like this?” Wirt twists his wrist once more, eliciting the sound he wants from his boyfriend’s mouth.

  
  
“FFfff--Oh! Oh! _Oh God!_ ”

“Is this what you want Mason?” Wirt bounces his knee, Dipper jerking deliciously in his lap.

“Hhh-Hhheee--”

Wirt kisses Dipper’s sweat soaked temple. “If you don’t tell me properly, I won’t know if I’m doing a good job. S-should I stop? Do you want me to stop?” He’s being a bit mean, but it’s worth it to see Dipper’s pupils blown wide, his lips forming a pout at the idea of stopping.

Dipper shakes his head, damp curls flicking sweat everywhere. “No! D-don’t! Don’t you dare stop! Don’t want that!”

“Then what do you want? Tell me Mason. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”

He starts stroking faster, knowing that Dipper’s voice is going to catch in his throat with the changing rhythm.

  
  
“Hah! Ahh! Oh! Oh! T-that! I want that! Just like that! T-touch me like that!” Dipper moans, tugging the back of Wirt’s head in time with his hip thrusts.

Wirt hums appreciatively, the slight pain of his hair being pulled nothing compared to the absolute bliss of Dipper coming undone in his hands. “That’s it. Good boy. You’re so good, Kitten. I love h-hearing your voice. It’s so nice, so addicting--just wanna hear more of it. Mason, you drive me wild--I can’t get enough of you. Of your face, your voice, your body--it’s all so beautiful. So sexy. You’re so wonderful, so adorable. So absolutely enticing! Do you like my hands on you like this?”

  
  
“Ye-yes! Yes! I--Yes!!” Dipper keens sharply, sucking air through his teeth as Wirt’s hand gets faster.

_So Adorable._ Wirt presses kisses to Dipper’s damp neck, catching salt on his tongue as he licks and nips his way up Dipper’s chin. 

“Wi-wirt. Ahhh, I can’t handle it. Y-you’re too much. Too much. So much. It’s so- _ouuuh_ -oo m-muH!ch!” 

“Do you need me to slow down?” His thumb rubs the sensitive vein under the hood of Dipper’s cock, while his other hand-- which had been tightly clinging to Dipper’s hip--starts climbing up his side, over his chest to tease his nipples. 

Dipper chokes of his spit. His head feels foggy. He’s flush red from his head to his chest. He’s overheating--and he’s _overheating._ When Wirt grinds his knee into him again, sliding his shorts down, Dipper thinks he might catch fire. His lower half is twitching, itching for more. He knows what he’s craving--he’s scared to say it out loud, but there’s no time to be bashful. There’s only now. _Right now_ , and _right now he wants_ \-- 

“Mason?”

  
  
“I---I’m.” _Dizzy. So Dizzy. And Stupidly fucking wet._ “Wirt, s-shower. Can we--take this to the shower? N-need to cool off.”

  
  
Wirt pauses, his fingers loosening around Dipper’s length. “Y-yeah. Is everything okay? Did I overwhelm you?”

Dipper nods, then shakes his head. “Yes...but no...but also--.” His head falls onto Wirt’s chest. “I think I’m going to pass out if we stay in here. The water’s too hot. I--I need something cooler.”

Wirt wraps his arms around Dipper’s shoulders, cradling him, “Okay. Yes, of course. I-I’m also feeling a little light heated. Let’s...let’s cool off.” _Did he tease Dipper too much? Was he not paying attention to what Dipper wanted? Was he being too demanding? The last thing he wanted was to make Dipper unhappy or uncomfortable._ A small lump forms in his throat, thinking he’s pushed Dipper too far.

Dipper lifts his head, licking the sweat off Wirt’s chin, before pressing a chaste, but none-the-less charged kiss to Wirt’s lips. He pulls away, tongue swiping out to catch the corner of Wirt’s mouth coaxingly, and Wirt can see the heavy lust still clouding his lover’s eyes. 

“And when we’re in there, will you finger me?”

Wirt swallows, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Y-yeah. I can do that.”

* * *

The shower is a cool reprieve from the hottub. Dipper cries out in bliss as cold water drenches his searing skin.

He cries out a second time as Wirt works a finger inside him.

The shower is even smaller, a rectangular box that can comfortably fit a single adult male. And they’re trying to squeeze in two young adults. There’s not a lot of space to comfortably get situated. Sharing a shower means less room to stretch out, more tight, cramped spaces. Limbs getting tangled together, more brushing up against one another, hardly any room to breathe. Everything is wet and sliding.

_Which is perfectly fine with him when his boyfriend is working him open like this._

The water cascades down the back of his neck as he hangs his head, trying to take steady breaths through his nose. It’s a bit hard when some of the water is trying to go up his nose. He shakes his head and pushes back his bangs, hoping that will help. He’s no longer overheating...but he’s still very much _burning up_.

  
  
Wirt crooks his finger, and Dipper back arches, a moan being pulled from his already loose lips. He presses his face against the wall, his cheek sliding against the shower tiles. 

“Is this helping?” Wirt leans over, whispering in Dipper’s ear. He presses a kiss to Dipper’s damp sideburns. 

“Y-yeah! That’s--ooh!--Just like that Wirt. That’s exactly what I W-w-wahhh!-want!”

Dipper turns his head so he can look at his boyfriend properly. Wirt, catching sight of the constellations on Dipper’s head, presses a few, tender kisses to the markings there. Dipper’s eyes flutter shut, humming contentedly.

  
  
Something he once absolutely despised, when his boyfriend’s touching them in this way--when his boyfriend treats them like some beautiful, gorgeous work of art--it’s hard to not get swept up in the moment. For a second, he can _almost_ understand their appeal. He doesn’t shy away from Wirt’s lips, at the very least. 

Wirt thrust his finger in and out, slow and tentatively, trying to gauge Dipper’s level of need by his reaction. 

Dipper rocks into the touch, wanting more, but not ready to admit it. He wants to enjoy himself--even if he’s impatient. They’ve been denied this for so long--he wants to try and savor their time together. Limited yes, but that doesn’t mean they have to rut like animals and end things prematurely. Even if it’s not enough, Dipper’s going to ride it out, because when he finally gets what he wants--it’ll be _mind shattering._

Wirt seems to catch on quickly. “Is that good, Kitten? Just one finger? Is that really satisfying you?” _Doesn’t mean he can’t tease the hell out of him._

“Y-yeah. It’s good. You’re really good at this, even with just the one. You do it so well, it’s hard to believe it can get better.” Dipper returns, not admitting anything, but hinting at the possibility of what’s to come.

  
“Really?” Wirt purrs, and he teases Dipper’s hole with his middle finger, but refuses to push it in. “I can think of how to make this a little better. What do you say?”

  
  
Dipper instinctively starts pushing against the intrusion, but stops himself. _Patience. Patience. Don’t let him win just yet._ “One finger is fine...unless you think you need more help?” He throws the ball in Wirt’s court.

Wirt smirks, not one to run from his lover’s challenge. He pushes his index finger in, up to the knuckle, and bends it back and forth, stretching Dipper’s walls. Dipper gasps, finding his cheek once more pressed up against the shower wall, legs shaking. His cock bounces between his thighs, red and weeping--begging to be touched. But Dipper doesn’t want it that easy.

“I can make do with the one. These are musician’s fingers. If they know how to dance along some clarinet keys, they certainly know how to prepare you.” He licks his lips, and, with a devilish thought, spreads Dipper’s ass with his free hand. Dipper cries out, as his hole is suddenly exposed to the colder water running off his back.

  
  
Wirt makes it a point to not touch the sensitive bundle of nerves inside Dipper. Not yet.

  
  
_He wants Dipper to beg for it._

“Y-You’re--ngh!--You’re not going to touch _there_?” Dipper whimpers, pouting as his boyfriend grinds his finger just out of reach of his prostate.

“Don’t you want me to take my time? Are you saying it’s _not_ enough?” Wirt probes.

Dipper huffs. _He’s getting itchy!_ “That’s just unfair! You’re being stingy now!”

  
  
“You said--”

  
  
Dipper slams his hips back, moaning when Wirt’s finger hits his prostate. His whole body shudders from the intensity. _There’s slow, and then there’s stagnant. And Dipper wants movement. Much more movement._

Wirt gasps, reveling in Dipper’s insistence. Dipper’s adorable when he’s impatient. 

“So Greedy. My greedy little Kitten. You just want everything, don’t you?” Wirt chastises, even as he slides his middle finger into Dipper. 

“Y-yes! Yes! Oh!”

“Does that feel good? Does this satiate you, my esurient lover? Or do you need ever more to appease that voracious appetite?”

  
  
Dipper would make a joke about his heightened vocabulary, but his mouth is too busy making lewd noises to comment. “Ohhh! Hhe! Aann! W-wirt!”

  
  
Wirt’s picks up his pace, his thrusts more deliberate, as he scissors Dipper open.

Dipper braces both hands against the wall, hoping to keep his balance. Wirt is spreading him so nicely, he doesn’t know if his knees can hold out. That dizzy feeling is back, but he can’t claim it’s the jacuzzi anymore. This is pure lust that’s turning his mind to mush. 

It’s Wirt’s fingers grinding deep inside his ass that has him reeling. 

“Do you want more? Do you want me to add another finger?” Wirt asks.

  
  
Dipper struggles to form words. He nods instead.

  
  
Wirt smiles, peppering kisses to Dipper’s shoulder blade, as he works a third finger in.

  
  
Dipper sobs, rocking back to meet Wirt’s fingers. “Ahh! So-soohh--haah!”

The water, mixed with Dipper’s fluids, are making squelching sounds as Wirt thrusts in and out, and it’s driving the both of them insane. 

“You’re adorable. And so _warm_. You’re doing so well. I love you, Mason. I adore you!” Wirt’s cock is aching; he presses his length between Dipper’s thighs, trying to gain some small semblance of friction. He’s been so focused on Dipper, he’s hardly had time to touch himself. And it hurts-- wanting so badly to replace his fingers with the object between his legs. But not until he’s given the say so. _Dipper comes first. He wants Dipper to enjoy himself first._

Dipper’s close. His breathing picks up as Wirt’s cock slides against his thighs, hard and needy, and Dipper imagines it inside him. His cock twitches, fond of the fantasy. He knows it’s only a matter of time.

  
  
“Wirt! Wirt! M-more. Please...more,” Dipper pleads.

  
Wirt nods, thrusting his fingers in and out as fast as he can, trying to hit Dipper’s prostate every time. His arm is sore, but that’s a small price to pay when Dipper’s breathing is punctuated every second by a moan, or mewl. It’s nothing compared to the way Dipper’s back arches in a perfect bow, his head lolling to the side as his eyes roll back into their skull.

  
  
“W-wirt! Ah! Ah! Ah! I’m! Hah! HAAa! I’m gonna!! Gonna!”

  
  
Wirt wraps his arm around Dipper’s waist, and pulls him flush against his chest. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Come for me! You’re doing so good. I wanna see you come! I wanna watch you! Wanna make you let go. Come for me. Come for me, Mason!”

  
  
And he does. Right on the end of his name. “Haaaahnn! W-Wirt!!!”

  
  
A glob of hot white streaks the shower wall as Dipper comes. Wirt milks Dipper’s orgasm by pressing the pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside him, rocking his fingers in a continuous, upward motion. He doesn’t let up, not until Dipper is trembling every other second, legs buckling, a clear sign that he’s finishing. 

Wirt waits until Dipper's body goes limp, leaning his entire weight onto the shower wall, before he removes his fingers. He rinses them in the water that is starting to teeter on freezing. Now’s probably a good time to get out.

  
  
He shuts off the faucet. The last bits of water, as well as their love making, swirl down the drain. For a moment they just take it all in, Wirt listening to Dipper as he catches his breath. He kneads the boy’s back with one hand, drawing circles against his stomach with the other. _Mindless humdrum._

_Just a moment to catch up._

Dipper cranes his head back. Eyes glazed.

Wirt stares back. Eyes smoldering.

“B-bed?” Wirt suggests.

“Bed,” Dipper agrees.

* * *

Wirt pushes him down onto the fold out mattress. He climbs on top, still wet from the shower. Droplets from his hair splash onto Dipper’s skin. Dipper stares up at his boyfriend, eyes hungry, lips parted temptingly. Legs spread.

Wirt leans down to connect their lips. He winces and draws back when he accidentally bumps their noses. “Sssh--”

  
  
“Careful. I know you’re eager, but don’t hurt yourself. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Right here for you.” Dipper touches Wirt’s face, stroking his poet’s cheek lovingly. His smile is dizzy and infectious.

  
  
“I--I know. It’s just hard to resist you. You’re so gorgeous. So beautiful. Hair still drying and water still clinging to your skin. Like something out of a museum. I just want to admire you. A work of art. You deserve to be put on display.”

  
  
Dipper’s blushes right down to his chest.

  
  
Wirt continues, more darkly, “Except I won’t allow that. Not when you’re like this. This isn’t for anyone else. This, this I want all for myself. The only person I want to see you like this--this open, this vulnerable--is me. Please, please allow me that selfish wish.”

  
  
While Dipper had been pulling out the fold out bed, he had grabbed something from his backpack. He uncaps the lid, pouring a generous amount of clear, cool liquid onto his aching cock. He quickly prepares himself, delighting in the feel of being touched--even if by his own hand. But this is only temporary, and he tells himself not to get distracted. He reminds himself that there is something much better in store for him if he behaves.

  
  
Dipper licks his lips, tangling his hands in Wirt’s hair, “I’m yours Wirt. Only ever yours. You don’t have to worry. Because no one will ever appreciate me the way that you do. This is for your eyes--your heart only. I am yours to own. Just like you are mine.”

  
  
Wirt giggles, feeling giddy and light as they confess their feelings to one another. No matter how sappy, no matter the saccharine, Wirt never tires of showering his love in the proper affection he deserves. He plants kisses all across Dipper’s face, mimicking Dipper’s affections earlier in the night. “Yours. Only ever yours, my love. Only you can make me come so undone. You have me wrapped around your finger, hopelessly devoted, never yielding _. I will forever catch you, my starshine, and follow your guiding light--til we burn out like stars in the universe. There will only ever be one star I whisper my prayers, my dreams to. Only one that I chase. Only you that I wish upon.”_

He lines himself up with Dipper, and slowly, carefully, pushes himself inside.

Dipper’s so starstruck by Wirt’s poetry, he doesn’t realize what’s happening until his walls are stretching, and he’s being stuffed so deliciously full. And now he’s not just starstruck-- _he’s seeing stars._

“Oh! W-wirt! A-ah! Oh god. Y-yes. Wirt! Ah!”

“You’re doing so good, Kitten. You’re taking me so well.” Wirt compliments, smoothing his hands over Dipper’s thighs. He hopes he’s isn’t being presumptuous. He figured he stretched Dipper enough in the shower, but should he have waited? Was Dipper not ready for this yet? Was he wanting more foreplay? “Is this okay? Am I hurting you?”

  
  
Dipper shakes his head. “Oh god Wirt! This is--this is more than okay! Oh god! Oh!”

“Yeah? G-good. I’m glad. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  
  
“Never...you’d never hurt me. That’s--ha--that’s why you’re so wonderful. Because you’re al-always thinking of others. S-so considerate. Y-you’re stunning, Wirt!”

Wirt preens, squeezing and massaging Dipper’s thighs as he begins rocking his hips. _Slow, take it slow._ “You’re amazing! The way you feel. You’re so soft, so warm. You wrap around me so perfectly. Your body is electric; you make my spine tingle. You’re just so--so beautiful. So gorgeous. My darling Kitten! My darling _Mason_.”

Dipper covers his eyes with his hands, suddenly overwhelmed. Wirt’s so fucking good at words. It’s not fair!

  
  
But then, fuck--he loves when Wirt weaves his words so cleverly. When he can pull Dipper apart with just his words alone. 

He already came in the shower, but his dick is springing back up again. _Just as insatiable as it’s owner_.

Wirt pitches forward, experimentally. Dipper bites his lip and mewls. A good sign, but easier to see if-- “Don’t hide your face. It’s just me. I want to see your face. I want to know that I’m making you feel good.”

He gently pries Dipper’s hands away from his face, intertwining their fingers. “That’s a good boy. So beautiful. You look positively ravished. I feel guilty, but also a little pleased that I can make you feel this way. You make me feel so wanted. You do this to me Mason.” He rocks his hips as evidence.

Dipper watches their hands, squeezing tightly, “You...you feel so good...i-inside me. Hah! W-wirt. I--I--I love you. Please...please I--”

  
  
“What do you want Mason? Tell me what you need. I’ll give it to you. The moon and the stars.”

  
  
“Please keep moving. Please. I want you so much.”

“I will. I--I want you as well. Oh Mason, I’m so thankful. So thankful that we can finally be connected again. Connected like this. I--I love you Kitten.”

The mattress starts to squeak as Wirt’s thrusts get more shallow.

Goosebumps rise up on Dipper’s arms as the sound pierces his headspace. “I love you. Oh~...W-wirt. Wirt. Wirt. Wirt. Wirt,” he chants.

Wirt’s hips start moving in time with Dipper’s chanting, adding to the pleasure. 

“Wirt. Wirt. W-wirt! Wwirt! Hah! Oh! W--w--w-Wirt! Ahh! Hggn! Wirt! Wirt! Wirt!”

  
  
“Hah! Ah! God! Haa! Ahhnn! M-Mason. Mason. M-maaauhh-son...Mason!”

Dipper’s dick bounces against his stomach, splattering precum across his stomach, dripping into his pubic hair. _So much for getting clean._

Who was he fucking kidding? Getting clean was never a priority. 

Wirt pins Dipper’s hands to the bed, jerking his hips to a strange, intoxicating beat. The water dripping down his face, he can’t tell if it’s sweat or excess shower water. Nothing else matters. Only the boy under him. Only his expressions. Only his body language. Only his voice. 

“Hah! Hah! Mason! Are you okay? Do you nee- _eeh_ \--need me to slo-- _ooh_ \--ow down? Am I being too rough? Going too fast?”

  
  
“N-no. Perfect. It’s p-perfect! You’re perfect! Just like that.”

“Like this? Just like this? Ohh, Mason you’re so good. Love making you feel good. Want to make you feel good forever! Gonna make you feel good. Gonna love you good. Give you what you’ve been wanting. Gonna make it all up to you.”

“Hah! Ah! Wirt! Yes! Perfect. So perfect! It’s ah! Yes! Yes...I love this. Treat me good. You treat me well.”

“Never anything less. Nev-ah! Never anything less for you. Only want to give you the best. Only want the best for you. Want to be the best for you. M-mason!”

“W-wirt! Hhaah Wirt!”

The bed _Creak creak creeeeaakkks--_

Dipper can’t ignore it. It penetrates his skull, drilling into his mind, along with the _slap slap slap!_ Of Wirt’s hips. Beautifully complementing each other. It’s so noisy that Dipper tries to focus on something else. Instead of the creaking, he focuses on the rocking. The bed is rocking-- _no_ , not the bed. The whole fucking RV.

Oh god either this RV is a piece of shit, or Wirt is fucking him hard enough to rock the whole thing.

“Mason! Mason! _Mason! I love you. I love you. Love you. Lo--ouh--ve yy-yy-you!”_

“Hahh! Ahh! Hnnng! Ha! Ha! Ah! Wirt----”

_Something about the creaking, the way the Rv rocks--it does something to Dipper’s head._ He knows that anyone passing by will know what’s happening. And he knows that if any of his family were to come back early, they would know exactly what’s up. Ford and Stan would kill him if they caught him like this. That’s a frightening thought--but something shifts and snaps, and a feverish part of him wants to cause trouble when it’s already so risky.

“Wi--wirt! Ha! Wirt! W-wirt! Wirt!”

“Yes? Yes, I’m here. Tell me what you want. I’m right here. I’ll take care of you. Mason, tell me what I can do…”

  
  
“Wirt! W--wirt! WWwwirt! I--I---Ah! HAH! NGH! WIrt!”

  
  
_Something primal crawls through his skin, something hot, and angry, and rebellious._

That’s why he throws his head back, and starts shouting, “Yes! Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Wirt! Fuck me!”

Wirt’s voice catches in his throat as Dipper starts moaning without restraint. He trips on his rapid heartbeat, on his tied tongue. His hips stutter uncertainly.

  
  
Dipper arches his back and lets his filthy mouth run, “Yes! Yes! You fuck me so good! So Fucking good! I’m yours! I’m your filthy whore, Wirt!”

Wirt shakes; his dick twitches as the words keep coming. “M--mason! That’s...that’s! Mason, what’s gotten into you?”

“You! You’ve gotten into me! And I want you to stay in me! D-Don’t stop! Don’t you dare pull out of me!” Dipper wraps his legs around Wirt’s waist, pulling him deeper, refusing to let him pull out.

  
  
Wirt sputters helplessly, jerkily thrusting into Dipper to keep the rhythm he momentarily lost. “I--I won’t. I promise! Mason, you’re-- You’ve never talked like this before. I’m...oh god!”

  
  
“Ah! Oh God! Yes! Like that! Yes! F-Fuck! Wirt! So good! You fuck me so stupidly good!”

“I--i---hah! M-mas--Hah! Oh god! What’s come over you? You’re...you’re being so d-dirty. I c-can’t handle..iiiihhh--”

  
  
“You like me like this? Hah! Wirt! You like you’re dirty slut, don’t you? You like fucking this dirty slut!”

  
  
“Haaah! Iii--”

  
  
He knows he’s just tempting fate, waving the red cape. They’ll be dead if they’re found. But the RV rocks, and the springs on the fold out mattress scream like they’re going to snap. And Wirt’s losing his composure--red faced and love drunk. He’s fucking Dipper faster, encouraged by Dipper’s vocal enthusiasm. _How can he stop when it’s so good!?_

“Yes! Oh! Ahh! AH! WIRT! W-I-R-T! Don’t stop. You make me so wet! So hard! Gonna spread my legs for you, let you fuck me stupid! Gonna let you make a mess of this whore! Hah! Ggghh!! Fuck! G-good! So good!”

  
  
“M-m-mma-mmasson”

  
  
“Yes! Yes! Oh fuck! Love it when you ca-aaaH-ll me that! Love it! Call me yours! Call me yours! Make me yours! Call me your dirty slut!”

If he weren’t so blissed out of his fucking mind, he might feel embarrassed at the words coming out of his mouth. He might be mortified to find there’s a part of himself-- _a filthy part of him_ \--that wants to be uninhibited. That likes talking like this. If he were a little more self conscious, he probably would have taken this part of himself to the grave. If he weren’t already so pent up and frustrated, this probably never would have seen the light of day. As it is, his anger, his rebellion, his disobedience, makes his tongue loose, and his body looser. 

_Fuck you Stan. Fuck you Ford!_

_Fuck me, Wirt._

“Mason! Fff-Fuck! Ah! M-mine. You’re mine! Mine and only mine!” Wirt gasps, saying fuck all to rhythm; hips snapping sharply as he bottoms out. As he hits Dipper’s prostate again and again. Desperate for more, desperate to be even deeper. He squeezes Dipper’s hands, their knuckles white, fingers trembling as they lose themselves in each other.

  
  
Dipper throws his head back, tears springing to his eyes as the coil in his gut starts winding. _Winding tighter and tighter! “_ Yes! Yo-yours! Yours! Yours! Say it again!” 

“M-mine! You’re mine! You’re mine, _Mason._ Only for me. You’re only allowed to be like this with me! No one else! Never! Never let anyone have you!”

  
  
“Yes! Ah! Ah! Yess! Yours! Yours, _Wirt. I’m your filthy whore!_ ”

Wirt hoists him upright. Letting go of his right hand, he grabs a hold of Dipper’s hair, yanking him closer, til their foreheads are pressed together; Dipper straddling his lap. “My--my greedy slut. You just keep begging for more. Wha-what am I supposed to do with you? How can I make you satisfied?” 

Dipper bounces on his cock, breathing ragged. “Cum inside me! Fill me full. Make it so I ca-ah!-n--so I can only remember you! Only your touch! Make a mess of me!”

  
  
“So demanding. Al-always wanting more! Di-dirty. Such a dirty mouth,” Wirt moans, craning his head to slot their lips messily together. Dipper pushes his tongue in Wirt’s mouth and-- _just like he expected, just like he hoped_ \-- Wirt sucks it hungrily.

  
  
“MMmhh--Hhhnnngg!! Haa--Haa--Mmmn--!!!” The sound of sucking-- _wet and sloppy_ \--mingle with the sounds of the RV. _Just more to add to their list of depravity._ The coil deep inside him winds tighter, straining against the pressure of their lust, desperate to come undone.

Wirt lets his tongue go, panting into Dipper’s mouth, “I’m close! M-mason! I’m--ah! I’m close!”

  
  
“Me-me too! Want you! Want you to come inside me!”

  
  
“A-are you s-sssu-uurhh!--?”

Dipper nods, taking Wirt’s hand and placing it on his dick. Wirt’s fingers curl around him instinctively, moving as quickly as he’s thrusting. It’s sporadic, desperate, and Dipper is _loving_ it. “Yes! Yes! Please! Please! Touch me! Want to come apart! Want you to take me over the edge! Need you to!”

Wirt groans, “Anything for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

Dipper tangles his fingers in Wirt’s hair, tugging desperately as he bounces in Wirt’s lap, meeting him halfway. The slapping, the creaking, the wet lewd sounds of Wirt’s cock sliding in and out of him, the heavily panting and moaning, it’s all reaching a crescendo. Wirt is fast and deliberate and sensual, and so fucking _good, so fucking good he can’t stand it._

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

  
  
“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

_Creak! Creak! Creaaaaaak!_

The coil inside him snaps, unfurling violently.

“W-wirt!” Dipper screams, and he’s falling over the edge. He feels something hot and sticky splash onto his chin. Wirt continues stroking, milking Dipper’s second orgasm of the night. Twitching, Dipper crumples onto the mattress, spent.

  
  
“Mason!” Wirt isn’t far behind. He tilts forward, hands on either side of Dipper’s head to catch himself. His body shudders as he releases into Dipper. He gives a couple shallow thrusts, pulling his own orgasm to its finish. He can feel his cum dribbling against Dipper’s entrance, fighting to come out; it mixes into his pubic hair. 

With a cry of exasperation, Wirt crashes onto Dipper’s chest, indifferent to his boyfriend’s cum on his forehead. He’s too blissed out and riding the post orgasmic wave to bother.

  
  
Dipper shudders as he feels Wirt’s cum dripping down his thighs. It’s a lot more than he’s used to. And Wirt’s still nestled inside him. “Been s-saving up...haven’t you?”

“H-haven’t really...had an outlet recently,” Wirt chuckles, warm breath tickling Dipper’s chest.

Dipper strokes Wirt’s head, playing with his drying hair.

“That was…”

“You were…”

  
  
The two stop talking. Then they both start giggling.

  
  
“You go first--”

“--Sorry, you were saying--”

The two laugh harder. Wirt’s fingers tickle Dipper’s thighs, as Dipper starts roughly tousling Wirt’s hair.

Finally Dipper says, “I love you.”

Wirt lifts his head. Dipper snickers at the glob of cum smeared across Wirt’s brow. Wirt leans forward, tongue lapping up the fluid on Dipper’s chin, before shoving his tongue in Dipper’s still laughing mouth. Dipper squeaks, his eyes rolling shut as they kiss. He tastes himself on Wirt’s tongue.

When Wirt pulls away, he’s got this lovesick smile on his face, light dancing in his eyes. “I love you too.”

* * *

Mabel and the girls arrive back to the RV around the same time the great uncles do.

  
  
“Hi Grunkle Stan, Hi Great Uncle Ford,” Mabel waves.

“How was the casino?” Grenda asks.

  
  
Stan is pouting. “Well we didn’t win the boat, that’s for sure.” It seems from his dour mood, that he probably did more losing than winning tonight.

  
  
Ford, however, is smiling from ear to ear, holding a burlap sack that is oozing green ectoplasm. In his eyes, he’s won the jackpot. “--But we did find something much better--”

  
  
“--Speak for yourself Sixer--”

“--This spectral menace nearly ripped my eyeballs out as we extracted him from the black jack dealer. Turns out, most of the dealers are just ghosts wearing skin suits. Honestly I’m not surprised, some of them looked like death, hung over. Hehe...heh... For the most part, they’re mischievous, but relatively harmless--”

  
  
“Harmless, my ass! The one at the roulette wheel totally cheated me out of 10,000 bucks!”

  
  
“Oh Stanley, just let it go. You of all people should know these games are stacked towards the house. Anyway, most of the ghosts there were docile, but this one apparently has been infected with some weird fungi, which was making him act out more. I guess he was causing a lot of disruption to the patrons, and the casino was getting bad reviews recently. The staff couldn’t do anything because they were worried of the fungi’s contagion, of being infected--I guess the fungi’s effects are contained so long as the ghosts are in their meat suits, but if they wanted to get rid of him, they’d have to extract his metaphysical form from his flesh puppet- so us showing up was sort of their silver lining. He put up a nasty little fight, but I’ve since subdued him with my transcendental metaphysical electron rod--”

  
  
“--Don’t forget I punched it in the face!” Stan barks.

  
  
“--Yes yes, your contributions were greatly appreciated, Stanley.” Ford waves him off, turning back to his audience who are in, mixed to negative degrees of intrigue. “He’s perfect for examining. I’m going to hang him over the shower head so he can finish draining fluids--then I’ll take him to the kitchen and see about extracting those fungi bits, and studying their properties. Figure out what caused such a violent reaction. This could be a huge break in the name of paranormal science! Oh man, wait til your brother sees this! He’s going to be so stoked!”

Ford can’t help doing a little dance of excitement...until he realizes something upon glancing at the group.

  
  
“Say, where is your brother?” He asks.

There’s a lull in conversation. Ford’s eyes scan the group quickly.

“...And...where’s his boyfriend?” He asks again, much more darkly.

Mabel opens her mouth, about to make some excuse like _‘oh they probably stepped out’_ Or _'they wanted to have a romantic dinner so they went somewhere else’_ or _‘they’ll be back in a minute, I think’_ or even just ‘ _I don’t know, but even if I did, I’d never talk! NEVER!’--_ but whatever she was going to say is interrupted by Greg.

“Dipper and Wirt weren’t feeling good, so they stayed behind in the RV.”

Ford straightens up, the streetlight shielding his eyes from view.

“Um...Great Uncle Ford...before you make any rash decisions, maybe just--”

Ford rushes up the steps and flings open the door of the vehicle.

Mabel shouts, “BOYS RUN!” and chases after her great uncle, hoping to save Wirt from an untimely death. 

Stan rushes after them, chanting, “Fight Fight Fight!”

The rest fly up the steps, unsure of what they’ll find inside. Grenda covers Greg’s eyes, who lets out a sharp, confused protest.

Inside they find…

Dipper laying on the couch, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, reading one of his mystery books. Wirt is in the kitchen washing dishes. 

“Welcome back,” the two say in perfect unison.

  
  
Ford stares from Dipper to Wirt, and then at the interior itself, trying to see if there’s anything different, anything out of place. _Anything that requires a laser gun to Dipper’s boyfriend’s head._

The RV looks about the same as when he left it. Nothing is out of place, that he can see, although he does notice that the washer in the back is running. He tenses.

  
  
Dipper cocks his head back to stare his uncle directly in the eyes, “Did you guys have fun at the casino?”

  
  
Dipper’s got this lazy, sedated smile on his face. His bangs have fallen back, revealing his birthmark, and he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Ford knows something’s wrong--Dipper is never this relaxed.

“Wow, Dipper you look really chilled out,” Candy comments, as if to rub salt in the wound. She’s smirking, all knowingly.

“Are you feeling better, Dipper?” Greg asks innocently, the only one not in the know.

Dipper titters crudely, “Oh yes, Greg, I’m feeling much~ better.”

“And you Wirt? No more migraines?” Greg asks.

  
  
Wirt places his hand over his mouth to conceal his snickering. “Yes. My headache went away rather quickly. I think I just needed some...quiet.”

Dipper and Wirt pause, before bursting into naughty laughter. 

Ford’s eye twitches.

“What the fuck? Does it smell better in here? Like it smells distinctly nicer in here than when we left,” Pacifica notes, lifting her head and taking a whiff.

The others follow suit, sticking up their noses and sniffing. 

“Oh, it smells like lemon and chocolate!” Mabel exclaims, a smile spreading across her face. 

The lemon scent is quick to identify. It’s cleaner. The chocolate scent is later identified when the group notices a pot of cooling chocolate on the stovetop. “What were you cleaning?” Ford interrogates. “...and what’s with the chocolate?” He adds, a little more unsure, but still suspicious of said object.

Wirt places the last of the dishes-- a cup-- in the dish rack. He wipes his hands on a hand towel, before turning to address Ford, “Noticed it was getting kind of dusty. Thought you and Stan would appreciate us spiffing up the RV. Also like, 9 people in one space? It’s going to stink up the whole RV if we don’t keep it in clean. We have a couple more days on the road. Just thought now would be the perfect time to clean up.” 

Ford stares at Wirt. Wirt is a lot easier to break. If he’s hiding something, Ford can squeeze the information out of him. Wirt stares back, his mouth twitching nervously. Despite the third degree, he doesn’t cower, or even crack. 

“And the chocolates?”

Wirt shrugs. “I’d been craving something sweet. Had some strawberries in the fridge, so I thought I’d make some chocolate dipped strawberries. Borrowed some Summerween candy, and got to cooking--it has a very lovely aroma, doesn’t it? The chocolate just finished melting, and should be warm enough to eat without burning your tongue. Feel free to have some if you want Mr. Ford. All of you are more than welcome to eat if you so want.”

“I thought you were making them for yourself?” Stan interjects, hoping to stir the pot a little.

  
  
“Was...but, I think I curbed my sweet tooth earlier tonight. Don’t want to...overindulge myself. Might get an addiction.”

Wirt’s eyes flash over to Dipper’s, tossing him a sultry smirk, to which Dipper playfully sticks his tongue out. When Wirt briefly hollows his cheeks, Dipper falls back into breathy elation.

Wirt’s eyes snap back to Ford’s when he feels the butt of a gun pressing into his forehead. 

“Great Uncle Ford!” Mabel shouts.

  
  
“Stanford, chill out! The kids are just messing around!” Stan scolds. It’s one thing if it’s harmless intimidation--but that’s a weapon against another man’s skull, and that’s more than just a threat.

Even Dipper who had been lounging a moment ago, smiling brightly, jumps to attention, eyes widening in horror. “Great Uncle Ford! Don’t! Please! Don’t hurt him!”

  
  
The lights from the kitchen fluorescence reflect off his glasses, making his expression unreadable. He puts his finger on the trigger, and says, even toned, “I’m only going to ask you once...what did you do to my great nephew?”

Wirt blinks. And then he blinks again. And then he blinks a third time.

  
  
Finally, he answers, “I had a enjoyable evening with my boyfriend. That’s all.”

It was the truth. 

Ford’s index finger is squeezing the trigger, seconds away from pulling it. “What does that mean?”

Wirt presses his fingers to the butt of the gun. Ford notes, rather smugly, that they’re shaking--however, Wirt takes a deep breath, calming his mind the way that Dipper taught him how to do, and the trembling ceases. With frightening composure, unlike any that Ford has seen the young man display, Wirt nudges the barrel away from his face. 

“I’ve answered all your questions honestly, and sufficiently. I believe you’re trying to rile yourself up at this point--which isn’t good for your health, not at this age.”

Ford sputters, and the light shielding his glasses is gone, revealing his stunned expression.

“I don’t think I have to explain myself any further, and I don’t think I will. So, if you will excuse me.” With that, he scoots past Ford towards his boyfriend--whose mouth is hanging open, flabbergasted.

He’s not the only one: everyone is staring incredulously at Wirt.

Wirt for his part gives a nervous chuckle at the multiple eyes on his person, and quickly seats himself down on the couch. With the slowly ebbing confidence, he pulls Dipper into his lap, winding his arms around Dipper’s waist, and laying his cheek on Dipper’s shoulder. 

_And if he’s trying to hide from Ford, well, that he might keep to himself._

Ford drops his arm, blinking owlishly. “Stanley...what just happened?”

  
  
Stan places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I believe, Stanford, he stood his ground, and told you to fuck off.”

Stan turns to look at Wirt, nodding solemnly. _Damnit, he’s proud._ If he ducks away to wipe a manly tear, nobody needs to know.

Wirt, deciding it’s better to switch gears, pats the seat next to him. “Greg, what did you do for dinner?”

Greg, who was left momentarily speechless at his brother having a gun to his head, recovers quickly. He hops into the seat next to Wirt and Dipper, recounting the story of Mabel and the gang to his brother, who closes his eyes and nods sleepily in response to Greg’s tale.

Mabel and the girls decide to take advantage of the still warm chocolate in the pot, rushing to the fridge to grab random things to dip in the chocolate.

Ford staggers to the front seat, stopping to glance at the two young men. Dipper huffs, still clearly upset at Ford’s little stunt. He squirms back into Wirt’s arms, smiling triumphantly, as if daring his great uncle to say anything.

Ford is too busy looking at Wirt, the pushover, worry wart, who hardly ever speaks out against anything, and is always stuttering when faced with a difficult obstacle ahead. Always submissive, always docile, non confrontation-- Ford can’t believe this is the same person dating his great nephew. But even with a ray gun to his head, Wirt had kept his cool, pushing aside any lingering fears he might have had. _And Ford knew he had them._ He was even brave enough to push Ford’s gun away. 

_Huh? Well, this was certainly a pleasant surprise._

Ford snickers, nodding his approval. Not that it matters, but Ford decides that he’ll lay off the string bean for the rest of the trip. And maybe after they come back as well. He’s feeling pretty generous.

Stan walks towards the door, preparing to close it. He stops when he notices a couple across the street, staring bug eyed in his direction.

  
  
He awkwardly waves. The couple turns bright red, and scrambles into their car, flooring it out of the parking lot. He watches them flee, and then slowly closes the door to the RV.

“Boys...you wanna tell me why two people took one look at our RV and bolted like the devil was parked here?”

_Silence._

  
  
And then.

  
  
“Snnnrk~!!”

  
  
“Hah! Hahh! HAAAHHHHAAAHAHAAHAH!”

“Oh--hehe--oh my god! Oh no! Haha! Oh fuck!”

“S-sshit...shit! Haha!”

Dipper and Wirt are laughing their asses off, cheeks blossoming a deep scarlet. It’s a very uncomfortable, very _revealing_ laugh. They can’t even look at each other, teary eyed as they completely lose any semblance of modesty. Dipper rolls off Wirt, crashing to the floor, holding his sides as he cackles face first into the carpet. Wirt covers his face with one hand, and then both, rocking back and forth, the tips of his ears burning brightly.

Ford wrings the steering wheel until his knuckles are white, eye twitching.

_Should have pulled the trigger._

**Author's Note:**

> What I wanted Wirt to tell Great Uncle Ford: "I fucked your great nephew, shit lips!"
> 
> What I didn't have Wirt tell Great Uncle Ford: "I fucked your great nephew, shit lips!"
> 
> This was really fun. I haven't written porn in a while. And I wanted some nice sexy porn with a delicious buildup. In this case the buildup was literally their desire and lust building up. Something about cockblocking is really fun to write, especially once the couple is finally FINALLY allowed to have their alone time. I hope people enjoy the length...some people might want it shorter, or get right to the sex. But I prefer some good Plot with Porn...even if the plot is very basic. Again, it's about that buildup!
> 
> I also hope the sex scenes were well written, and not too rushed. Part of me wonders if I should go back and add a little extra extra to some of the scenes. Please let me know if it's lacking. 
> 
> This is a prompt from Pinescone Week 2019. I always wanted to do every entry, and even it's a year late, I'm still dedicated to trying to write one entry for each prompt. I don't know. Like this one took a long time, but It was worth the wait. I'm glad I finally made it, time is irrelevant! 
> 
> Pinescone has been my muse for so long, and it will continue to be my muse long throughout my life. These two just mean so much to me, and I'll take them anyway I can get them! Even if I'm the last one shipping them.


End file.
